


Hold On Like You Gotta Let Me Go

by auroreanrave



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childbirth, Dating, Drabble, Engagement, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Love, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 06:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1808311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Sam and Oberyn and how fate has their backs a little bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On Like You Gotta Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> Random crack pairing, for which I hold little to no shame.
> 
> Title comes from Ingrid Michaelson's 'One Night Town'.

** i. **

Sam doesn't do blind dates. He's too much of an introvert, really. The idea of going to a bar and having awkward chit chat accompanied with overpriced drinks and the vague sense of disappointing sex is something he'd rather leave in favour of a night in with Jon and Ygritte and watching them deal with their unresolved sexual tension in the form of video-game-induced insults.

So, he's surprised, really, when the most attractive man he's ever met slides onto the stool beside him and introduces himself as Oberyn.

"You are not what I expected at all, really."

Oberyn grins, orders an expensive whiskey without breaking eye contact with Sam. "Glad to hear. Somehow I do not believe this is really your scene."

"Not really. I'm more of a bookstore and coffee shop kind of guy."

Oberyn grins, eyes lighting up in genuine delight. "How about we go find somewhere a little less... crowded?" He downs his whiskey and Sam gulps down his beer.

They end up at an all-night Barnes & Noble and spend hours traipsing from section to section, comparing books on science and religion and thrillers and comedies and classics. Oberyn pays for everything - both his and Sam's orders despite Sam's protests - and they spend another hour in the coffee shop upstairs, talking and laughing and sparring and - eventually - kissing.

Sam finds out a week later that his actual blind date - Edd, a technician - had recently entered a relationship with a charming boy in the same department as him and hadn't got around to telling Grenn to cancel the date. He thinks he's rather lucky.

**ii.**

The morning sunlight that filters out through the thick muslin blinds hit Sam square in the face and it's only when he finally rolls to the other side, eyes blinking groggily, that he remembers that this is not his bed, nor his apartment.

The sheets he's currently rolled around in soft and snow white, mussed and twisted and judging by the feel they have an impossibly high threadcount. Sam is luxuriating in these sheets.

The door opens and Sam pushes himself to his elbows, taking in the room; massive, the size of Sam's entire apartment, all neutral shades save for splashes of gold in the furniture, the king size bed he's currently lolling around in, tasteful abstract art on the walls. The room looks like it's skipped off the front page of "Elle Decoration".

Oberyn enters, grinning and carrying a tray full of food, wearing nothing but tight black boxers that are too sinfully tight, and Sam's blood rushes from his face to his cock in record time.

"Good morning. Glad to see you have your strength." Oberyn places the tray down on the small armoire at the foot of the bed - Sam can see strawberries and blueberries and can smell fresh coffee and bacon - before clambering up the length of the bed. He's liquid grace, crawling up to meet Sam with a kiss.

"So," Oberyn says, sliding in beside Sam, one muscled arm around his shoulders, "I know you have no plans for the day. I was hoping you could spend it with me."

"It's okay, really. You don't have to." Sam offers a wan smile. He's far too used to being the accidental one night stand, but he knows his role to play.

He isn't at all used to a handsome, gorgeous man cupping his face and kissing him senseless, let alone a man he vaguely recognises as being on the Forbes Rich List. Which happens rather fervently.

They eat their breakfast hours later - Sam with bruises on his hips and necks, Oberyn with scratches down his back and a smug smile - arguing over the best bookstores in the city and music and feeding each other pieces of bacon.

**iii.**

The first official 'date' they have as a couple is a bit of a disaster - Oberyn apparently plans a romantic dinner at his apartment, in the dining area with two-storey windows that overlook the whole of Manhattan.

Unfortunately by the time Sam arrives at the apartment, the kitchen is full of smoke, an Afghan rug that probably costs the average salary of a government employee is in blackened tatters, and Oberyn is sulking on his oversized couch.

"I really wanted to make you a nice dinner." Oberyn says, kissing Sam. Sam rolls his eyes, grabs Oberyn's home phone and orders them Thai food. They have it against the backdrop of a Barefoot Contessa marathon (with Sam cheerfully pointing out dishes Oberyn could try), and have lazy, gentle sex that makes it all worth it.

The next time, Oberyn takes Sam out to dinner.

**iv.**

This time it's tickets to the Met's premiere showing of "Fidelio". Sam has never been to the opera before; he's had his fair share of CDs and downloads, watched filmed adaptations on arts channels on television, and even once contemplated shelling out money for a local, underground interpretative adaptation of "La Boheme".

Oberyn offers them to him over coffee. They're at a little coffeehouse Sam likes to frequent when he has the time away from work; they have big open spaces, local artists' pieces hanging on the open brick walls (Oberyn buys Sam a piece every time they go in, despite Sam's admission that he doesn't have the space; Oberyn takes two and hangs them - watercolours showing a sunset cityscape and a series of summer fountains - in his living room and foyer respectively), and the nicest milkshakes in the city.

Sam once jokes that Oberyn is slumming it and every subsequent time they go out for coffee, Oberyn defiantly wears lumpy beanies over his hair and old jeans and thick glasses that make Sam want to jump his bones as much as his tailored Michael Kors and Tom Ford suits do.

"You really shouldn't - I mean..."

"I know you have wanted to go. Fortunately, so have I. At least this way there will be no awkward silences and I get to go on a date with a charming, handsome gentleman who will be able to match my mania for the finest art." Oberyn says, sipping at his own chai latte. He squeezes Sam's hand and Sam squeezes back.

On the night of the premiere, Oberyn shows up at Sam's apartment with dinner for Sam, himself, and Jon who is himself having a nice night in with his now-girlfriend Ygritte, along with two dinner suits. They share slices of pepperoni deep-pan and Oberyn dresses Sam in his first dinner suit, kissing and mauling him thoroughly.

They look the part and despite Sam's initial anxiety about being surrounded by five hundred rich philanthropists and businessmen, he enjoys himself with Oberyn providing a bitingly funny commentary on everyone in sight. The performance is fabulous, and when it's done, Sam claps the loudest.

That night Oberyn takes him back to his apartment and for the first time, they simply take a shower, watch TV, read in bed for about twenty minutes, and fall asleep like a blissfully normal couple; two warm commas against the cool night outside.

**v.**

Oberyn proposes exactly one year, seven months, and twelve days after their first date. He somehow manages to avoid a big overblown affair (no fireworks or doves or string quartets), and asks Sam to marry him one sunny afternoon when they're sat on a bench overlooking the Hudson.

Sam almost doesn't hear him over the sound of the city, and then accepts, without a moment's hesitation. They kiss and then continue discussing the city's new schools program (Sansa and Arya both approve of Oberyn immensely; the former for his unlimited arts program access and his stories, the latter for his renowned fencing skills and his tutelage) and the effect it will have on New York's most disadvantaged children, and what Dorne Industries can do to help them.

Their wedding is, naturally, a much bigger affair; the story of the CEO of Dorne Industries marrying an information analyst is novel enough that Sam and Oberyn end up fending off exclusive interview offers from GQ, Vogue, and Harper's Bazaar. There are no doves, thankfully, but they have a delicious cake the size of a small neighbourhood, tearful speeches from Ned and Jon, some astonishing dancing from Sallera and Arianne, and a loud enough party that the reporter from Vogue Italia reports being able to hear people singing out in the streets.

The picture that makes the cover of Vogue and Harper's is Oberyn and Sam's favourite. They're at the altar, both in their dark Armani morning suits and vibrant ties (gold for Oberyn, grey for Sam), grinning at each other and laughing quietly at something private and intimate. They look so indestructibly in love.

Oberyn frames the picture, hangs it in their lounge. Sam prefers a candid shot - they're on the beach on their honeymoon, surf in the background, smiling and kissing - for his bedside table.

They never tell anyone else what the joke was.

**vi.**

Within a year, they begin discussing children - ostensibly, while shopping at Williams & Sonoma because Oberyn insists on trying to cook and they go through new utensils every three months. Sam knows this is important to Oberyn, part of what makes Sam love him - his terrible cooking and his passion for the arts and his insistence on multi-million-dollar programs for the underprivileged and his need for a family.

"Are you sure about this?" Oberyn is asking, one arm looped around Sam's shoulders, linking with one of Sam's hands as they check out the cutlery and cookware.

Sam nods. "Of course. I want a family. One better than mine anyway." He considers knives in stainless steel and new bowls in vibrant turquoise. Waits.

Oberyn smiles, plays with the platinum ring on Sam's ring finger. "We will be a fantastic family." He promises.

They discuss surrogates and Oberyn's colleague Tyrion recommends a girl - Alayaya - and the night that everything is confirmed, Sam dreams of a suburban home with Oberyn cooking pancakes in the kitchen and two kids with Oberyn's hair and skin and eyes as green as Sam's and he's never wanted anything so much in his life.

**vii.**

The private suite Oberyn had hired out is small and quiet and when Doctor Caleotte emerges from the delivery room, holding a small wriggling bundle in his arms, Sam's heart stops beating for a full twenty seconds until he's holding the bundle in his own arms and it's just him and Oberyn and their daughter in the room.

"She is so beautiful." Oberyn says and Sam doesn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Oberyn is crying, handsome face probably a soggy mess, their hands linking over and overlapping so that the baby is cradled in four hands and arms.

"She's an Elia for sure." Sam says, gazing at the sight of warm brown skin and blue eyes that will turn green soon enough and a little crop of dark hair that mirrors Oberyn's own folical shade.

"Thank you." Oberyn whispers into Sam's temple, pressing his lips there. Little Elia starts to cry as the wind picks up outside, a springtime storm coming to wash the slush of winter away.

The three of them settle down on the big bed, Oberyn and Sam in a half huddle, curled around each other and Elia, their hands warm and solid, cradling her, promising the world to her while their friends and relatives wait to meet the new arrival.  
  


**epilogue**

If you think this story has an unhappy ending, you haven't been paying attention.


End file.
